


The Raven's Mask

by duskdelirium



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Discussion of Death, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mild Swearing, Tickling, also i took some liberties with the whole afterlife thing, canon compliant character death, i haven't read any of the extra materials for cr, i think? idk what counts as fluff and angst, so sorry if this is a wildly inaccurate depiction, spoilers for end of campaign one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskdelirium/pseuds/duskdelirium
Summary: Vax can’t help but notice that so many things are different in the realm of the Raven Queen, and he can’t help but slip into his old melancholy habits. Luckily for him, someone is looking out for him. Spoilers for the end of Campaign One.This is a tickle fic, don’t read it if you're not chill with that. This is your final warning.
Relationships: The Raven Queen & Vax'ildan (Critical Role)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	The Raven's Mask

**Author's Note:**

> This is angsty as fuck because I wrote this while I was in a Mood  
> (cw for discussions of death, occasional swearing)

Vax idly traces the lines of his hand with his finger, lightly skimming his skin. These are the first few moments he has had to himself over the past few…

How long has he been here?

Time is different here in the realm of the Raven Queen and he realizes that he isn’t entirely sure how much of it has passed since his arrival. The passage of time is far more fluid than on the Prime Material Plane, shifting and bending to suit the needs of his Matron and the departed souls that She, and now he, guides to their rightful resting places.

He feels as if he has already been here for years, maybe centuries, and yet at the same time as if he only just arrived. Vax knows that the latter is most likely true, after all if he had truly spent centuries here he would surely be more comfortable in Her realm. He and Her other followers have simply been kept busy in the time following the fall of Vecna. Despite their best efforts, Vox Machina couldn’t save everyone and the numerous souls of soldiers and ordinary townsfolk who fell during the battle needed to be guided to the realms of their respective gods or to the realms reserved for those who chose not to follow any particular being.

Within his first few moments of fulfilling his promise to the Raven Queen, he was introduced to his duties as Her most recent champion. Almost as soon as he arrived in Her realm, he was once again returned to the Prime Material Plane. However, instead of being returned to his body, he remained little more than a spirit, incorporeal and disconnected from his former plane of existence while still inhabiting it. This, ultimately, was the only form that his task required though, as his charges were in the same state: souls without bodies they could return to.

Oftentimes, they were frightened or confused, the sudden influx of the dead stalling those meant to collect them and causing the newly departed to be confronted with their own corpses. Most stayed with their bodies, but others wandered, which put them at risk of becoming lost in the Prime Material Plane as ghosts or vengeful spectres. He soothed them as best he could and tracked down those that wandered. He answered their questions to his best ability and provided, or at least he hoped he provided, a friendly face and comforting phrase in their departure from life.

Some, he was surprised to find, recognized him from the battle or from his earlier jaunts with Vox Machina. They praised him and thanked him for his deeds, for his obvious sacrifice for all of Exandria. He waved this all off with a smile or laugh, but their well-intentioned words only made the inside of his chest twist painfully in an unexpected way. Sometimes simply looking out at the world that was once his home, especially when collecting those who fell on the battlefield or later succumbed to their injuries in Vasselheim, or Emon, or worst of all in Whitestone, made his insides burn.

Eventually, the number of souls that needed to be quickly retrieved from the Prime Material Plane returned to a manageable amount for Her other followers and he took on the responsibility of guiding them from Her realm to their final destinations upon their arrival behind the divine gate. This task proved to be far easier, at least emotionally, for Vax. He knew what was expected of him here in Her realm, to be a steady presence for the newly departed, and this was easier to provide without the constant reminder of all that had been lost, of what he had lost.

Vax blinks rapidly and shakes his head, an attempt to shake his thoughts loose from their direction, but the ache that rooted itself in his chest somewhere around his heart refuses to loosen its grip. The pain was easier to deal with when he was kept busy ferrying the departed around the various planes of the gods, occupying himself with their needs and his responsibilities, but now that his Matron has granted him time to acclimate himself to Her realm, it is harder to stave off. He tries to ignore it, hoping it will fade if he doesn’t acknowledge it, and once again begins leading his finger, which had stilled in his contemplation, in a looping path around his palm and fingers.

Touch, like so many things, is both familiar and wildly different here. He was surprised to find that his body, or at least his form, maintained its solidity. The first time he dared to test his form when he was decently sure his Queen’s eyes weren’t trained on him, he half expected his hand to pass right through his chest. Vax lightly pinches one of his fingers with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. He takes in the subtle softness of the flesh as it compresses slightly under the pressure and the underlying firmness of bone. He releases his finger and goes back to tracing the lines of his hand. He can feel the trail of tingling sensation his finger creates in its trek across his palm.

Vax presses more firmly against his palm with his middle three fingers, slowly smoothing away the previous sensation. While the sensation is familiar, the feel of his skin is still startlingly strange under his fingertips. His flesh is cool, neither warm nor cold, an unsettling non-temperature, different both from when he was truly alive and when he returned to the Prime Material Plane as only a vessel to defeat Vecna. He supposes that it makes sense, after all hot blood no longer occupies his veins. Still, he anticipates the heat of his own body and when it doesn’t come he can’t help but feel unnerved. So many times in the past the warmth of his own skin, and the skin of others, has brought him much needed comfort. Now seeking that same comfort out, he finds that what would have soothed him before now only startles him further. Every time he runs his hand down his face or worries his fingers, he is disturbed by the lack of gentle heat that he once could expect to warm his nose on winter nights in the woods, of the fleeting heat of his friend’s shoulders as he clapped them on the back for a job well done, the comforting warmth of his sister’s hand in his, the gentle burn of Keyleth’s hands on his face as she smoothed away…

He snatches his fingers away, balling them into fists, and takes a shaky breath as the ache once again overtakes his chest. He screws his eyes closed as the realization that he no longer needs the air that his body instinctively tries to draw into his lungs sends another throb of anguish through him. Gods he misses them. He knew that it would be hard to leave them behind, but he couldn’t have anticipated this. Along with losing his family, his sister, and the love of his life, he now must bear their absence on his own and in silence. After all, he has a duty to both his Matron and the souls he guides. He signed up for this; has a promise to fulfill. He knows for the most part what is needed of him now and that doesn’t include dumping his troubles onto the souls of the newly departed or troubling his Matron with issues that must seem so small and insignificant to Her. He is here to help and guide, not be a burden.

“Vax’ildan,” the voice of the Raven Queen echoes sourceless through the chamber bringing Vax back to his new reality.

Vax stands and slips into the mask of the Raven Queen’s Champion, which he had perfected over his short stay in Her realm, to greet his Matron in Her smaller form with Her true face still covered as She approaches. He has to fight to keep his face neutral and his body relaxed even as Her mask shifts to smile easily at him.

“My Champion,” the mask’s smile grows and Vax senses the contentment both in Her voice and the space around him. “I required your use before we could discuss your place here, for that I am sorry. I had hoped to speak with you about what I will require of you before you began your service in my realm, however the situation after the Undying King’s fall was unusual and demanded the attention of all of my servants, yourself included.”

She continues to step closer to him, floating almost. Her dark hair trails down the sides of Her mask and blends with Her robes which glide across the bone-white floor with Her movements. The folds flow loosely around Her and obscure Her feet; their motion reminds Vax of spilled ink on tile floors. Her bodice fits Her more closely around Her waist, chest, and upper arms, though a high, feathered collar obscures the skin of Her neck entirely. The sleeves of Her dress loosen, their extra fabric trailing along the floor, to reveal black, feathered gloves. Or perhaps those are Her hands, Vax wonders. The feathers shine with an iridescent rainbow and cover long, thin fingers that come to the slightest point at their tips, not unlike the feet and talons of a bird.

Vax has only seen Her, especially in this form, a handful of times and each time he can’t help but to notice that She is equal parts beautiful and unnerving in Her appearance. He isn’t quite used to it yet, but he's getting there. A thread of amusement winds its way through the atmosphere and Vax realizes that She can probably sense the direction of his thoughts. He feels his cheeks color slightly, but he continues to keep his face blank and body still as his Matron reaches him.

“However, you have already made me glad to have you returned to me. You have slipped into your role here with the same grace that you bent your string with, my Vax’ildan. Already, you have provided both myself and the souls you guide with aid and comfort, for this I commend you.”

Vax feels a tiny spark of pride quickly light amongst his aching chest. At least he can still help those around him even if he feels he is about to fall apart at the seams. He forces a small smile, which he hopes reads as sincere but probably lands closer to constipated, and bows his head in recognition.

“Thank You, my Queen. I hope to be of service to You,” he says, guessing that this is what one should say when speaking to their Goddess. He thinks that he guessed right, or at least not wrong, as he feels no negative shift in Her emotions. She continues to smile at him and dips Her head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of his statement.

“We have some unoccupied time now, however, to discuss your duties. Come, we have much to talk of and there are a few things I feel you should see.”

She holds out one feathered hand expectantly and Vax takes it obediently. He realizes that it is warm in his hand, which sends another wave of pain crashing through his chest. It feels so similar to Vex’s or Keyleth’s but looks alien in his grasp, another reminder of their absence in his strange new existence. He rips himself away from his train of thought and desperately tries to stamp down the tide of grief and longing that momentarily overtakes him. He has a duty and can’t let himself be distracted by his emotions.

Vax belatedly notices the world moving around him and his Matron as they move towards their destination. He looks down to see his feet moving, almost of their own accord, as he follows Her. A trickle of relief works its way through him at the sight, at least his body hasn’t betrayed him as his mind has.

As Vax’s mind refocuses to the current moment, he notices the subtlest shift in the atmosphere surrounding his Matron. It's gone almost the instant he recognizes it, though, and he shrugs it off. Probably just his mind playing tricks on him, it seems to be enjoying doing that lately.

After a short time walking in silence, the Raven Queen and Her Champion arrive at one of the many passages to the planes of the other gods. He sneaks a quick, uncertain glance at his Queen, but Her porcelain mask gives him no indication of Her intentions.

“This way, my Vax’ildan. What I intend to show you lays just beyond this barrier.”

As She says this, Vax realizes that he had unintentionally stopped moving, so much for his body not betraying him. He resumes his pace and follows Her through the passage between planes.

Vax squints his eyes as they attempt to adjust to the sourceless sunlight he suddenly steps into. His boots connect with soft grass that gives way under his weight. Vax gazes out in awe at the verdant field he finds himself in, vibrant green grass speckled with multi-colored wildflowers. The sky above him is crystal blue with puffy white clouds slowly drifting across its seemingly endless expanse. Clusters of trees are dispersed along the horizon, some shading small, cozy-looking buildings. They step further away from the passage and Vax glances behind him. The passage back to his Queen’s realm appears as a shimmering doorway surrounding the hazy image of Her realm.

“Where are we?” he asks, “My Queen?” he adds as an afterthought.

She doesn’t chuckle, not exactly, but Her amusement at his reaction is palpable.

“We are in one of the many realms we transport the departed to. This one is under the influence of no god and rather is more often the destination of those who chose to walk their own path in life,” She says.

She releases Her grip and Her hand fades back into the fabric of Her robes. They stand in silence gazing out over the field for a few moments before Vax shifts and turns his face towards Her.

“Forgive me, my Queen, but what did you want to show…” he trails off as his Matron slowly lifts one long finger to the lips painted on Her mask and shushes him gently.

“Listen, my Champion, and watch. It will come to you,” is Her only answer.

So Vax turns his attention back to the open field and the drifting clouds and tries to not let his mind wander to darker places. A gentle breeze picks up, calm and cool, and blows against his face. The wind plays lightly with the wisps of his hair not secured in the small braid at the back of his head. He exhales slowly and steadily, trying valiantly to focus on the present moment, only to have his breath catch in his throat at an unexpected tingling on the outer shell of his right ear.

The breeze had caused the feathers on the collar of his mantle to shift and brush gently against his ear. Vax flicks his head to try to dislodge them to no avail and fights to maintain his concentration on the field in front of him.

This, of course, had happened before, but usually he had more pressing matters to focus on besides the distracting sensation. Simply having to stand still and silent and focus on his surroundings while the wind and his damn traitorous clothing distracted him was beginning to prove to be a momentous task. He knows that he probably shouldn’t be so bothered by it, but, well, his ears are really _fucking_ ticklish and he’s finding it harder to concentrate with each passing moment.

After a few more jerky movements of his head that he hopes escapes the gaze of his Queen standing next to him, Vax gives in to quickly scratch at his ear and smooth the feathers of his collar into a formation that he hopes will leave his poor ears alone. Vax feels Her gaze momentarily on him but he doesn’t turn to address Her even as his cheeks, and the tips of his ears, color slightly in embarrassment. He lets out a small sigh of relief as the wind subsides and the feathers on his collar settle back into his mantle.

His relief is short lived, however, as the breeze picks back up with more strength, ruffling his feathers in more ways than one. The wind is strong enough to disturb both sides of his mantle and cause the feathers to sway more erratically. They brush gently against the outer shells of his ears, some flitting high enough to tease their sensitive tips. Their increase in movement also means that they flutter against his neck, less ticklish than his ears but still sensitive. The sudden gentle tickles cause him to scrunch his shoulders to protect against the sensation, but this only brings the implements of his torture closer to his sensitive spots. Vax bites down on his lip to try and control the smile threatening to overtake his face and fights to maintain his composure, all concentration momentarily lost to the maddening sensation.

Vax fixes his gaze straight ahead and straightens his neck in what he hopes is a subtle attempt to distance the feathers on his collar from his tormented ears. This attempt proves to be futile however, as the wind shifts, almost as if on purpose, to propel the feathers to reach his neck and ears wherever he jerks them with an increasing lack of control. So far he has managed to silence his snickers and limit his fidgeting without making a grand display of brushing the feathers of his mantle away from his ticklish ears and neck, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

He lifts his arms to end his torment, but they come crashing back to his sides as the feeling of feathers swirling delicately against his ribs forces a surprised, ticklish snort out of him as he hunches forwards. What the _hell_? Did some of the feathers from his mantle dislodge and fall into his shirt? But how--

Vax’s thought process is interrupted by the appearance of more ticklish sensations under his shirt. He feels what he assumes to be several other feathers teasing his torso and he folds inwards in a failed attempt to protect himself. One glides up and down his left side, another joins its predecessor in circling a particularly sensitive point on his upper ribs, and a final one traces a lazy trail around his navel. Snickers and giggles slip from his lips despite his best efforts to maintain his composure and they increase in their frequency the longer the delicate sensations tease his ticklish spots.

He hears a chuckle from his left and turns his head to look at his Matron who in his torment he had forgotten was standing right next to him. She continues to look out towards the field, but he can feel the amusement that surrounds Her, tinged with… mischief?

“M-My Queen?” Vax manages in his confusion despite the ticklish sensations wracking his body.

The only response he receives is the sudden, gentle scratching of disembodied, pointed fingers in addition to the swirling feathers. The hands lightly tease his stomach and ribs, flutter delicately under his chin, carefully trace his ears, and gently squeeze his knees. Vax lets out a cackle as his resolve crumbles and he sinks gracelessly to the ground.

Unsurprisingly, the implements of his gentle torture follow him on his way down and continue to chase after his ticklish spots. The feathers dance with far more intent over his poor ears while pointed fingertips ghost against the underside of his chin and around his neck, somehow knowing to pay extra attention to the spot where his jaw connects to his neck. Another wayward feather drifts to his back to lightly trace around the skin of his upper back between his shoulder blades, which he didn’t even know was ticklish, causing him to arch away. His attempts to evade the sensations at his back only cause him to arch into the fingers skittering over his belly, making him jerk backwards only for the cycle to repeat, leaving him twitching back and forth on the ground. One of the hands has taken to poking and pinching the skin just above his pant-line, as if popping bubbles that release his wild giggles. Occasionally, it will slip unexpectedly into his navel and wiggle maddeningly making him cackle. A final hand alternates between his legs, lightly squeezing the kneecaps or fluttering teasingly at the delicate skin at their backs, making him kick out weakly.

Vax squirms lightly on the ground, arms wrapped tightly around his sides in an attempt to block out the ticklish sensations to no avail. No matter where his hands are, the feathers and fingers dance easily around them. He giggles, high pitched and wild, laughter shifting to cackles or deeper belly laughs as the fingers and feathers drift across his sensitive skin, unable to do much of anything else. The intensity never increases past light scribbling and persistent fluttering, causing mirth to bubble up inside him and escape through his laughter and spark through his insides. Despite the cause being somewhat overwhelming, it feels good to laugh.

Eventually, the implements of his soft torture back off, the feathers lazily flicking over his skin and the fingers tracing languidly around his ticklish spots. They never truly settle though, keeping him in a state of giddiness and he fails to fully quiet his giggles even as they lose their wild tinge of desperation. Vax feels something settle beside him, but is too distracted by the teasing that makes the inside of his chest and stomach squirm in a pleasantly unbearable way. That is until the feeling of soft grass against his face reminds him of where he is, and who was standing next to him before the ticklish onslaught. A strike of panic fires through him and he bolts upright, shaking off the feathers and phantom fingers fully as he twists to face his Matron who had settled beside him, spluttering apologies as he sits up.

But before he can sit all the way forward and begin forming a coherent response, fingers scribble with far more intent than the light fluttering of his previous torment at his back, sending him crashing back into the soft ground as he cackles. They still and vanish entirely as the Raven Queen lays a gentle hand on his forearm near his wrist. Her mask turns to look at him, a calm and comforting smile gracing the porcelain.

“Be calm, my Champion, you needn’t fear my judgement,” She says as She lifts his hand to hold it lightly between both of Hers.

Vax feels the panic building in his chest wash away slowly, but its absence is quickly replaced with confusion. He looks to Her mask, then to where Her hands encircle his and a jolt of surprise shoots through him as he recognizes the feeling of long, pointed fingers against his skin. He looks up at Her with wide eyes, his cheeks and the tips of his ears noticeably more pink. He opens his mouth to form a reply, a question, something to help him slip back into his mask of the unflappable Champion, but he is unable to summon anything. Her smile grows on Her mask, amused, confirming the obvious. He continues to stare at Her as he snaps his jaw shut, making his teeth clack together gracelessly, feeling lost as to what to do after one has had the ever-loving shit tickled out of them by their Deity. And here he thought his existence would be less weird in the afterlife.

“Yes, my Champion?” She says, tilting Her head slightly with an air of amusement.

Vax realizes that he's just been staring at Her mask without saying a word or making any indication of intelligent thought for longer than is probably socially acceptable, even by dead people standards.

“I, uh,” is what he manages, so still no proof of intelligent thought but at least he got one word. It's better than what he was saying before, although that was nothing so he guesses that the bar is pretty low.

His eyes flick away from Her mask and back to their hands and confusion floods him once more. His brow scrunches as he turns to look at Her, still smiling at him, as he manages his first coherent thought since arriving here.

“Why?” he asks, one word statements not having yet betrayed him.

“Because you were troubled, my Vax’ildan,” Her mask continues to smile comfortingly at him and the markings meant to represent her eyes pinch with compassion, even as Her tone holds a somber tinge.

Vax deflates a little at Her answer, he had thought he was disguising his distress well enough.

“I, how’d you know?”

She chuckles lightly and turns his hand over in Hers and begins to trace the lines of his palm with one long finger.

“This is my realm, Vax’ildan, very little escapes my sight here. Also, you forget that only your soul exists here. Just as you and others can sense my mood in my presence, I can sense yours. Oftentimes I simply leave this unacknowledged, your emotions are yours to choose what to do with after all, but yours were so potent that I felt I should intervene,” She says, watching Her finger drift across Vax’s palm.

Ah. Well he feels like an idiot.

She sighs, but still does not turn to face him, though even from Her profile he can see Her mask displaying an expression of somber concern.

“Even so, you fought valiantly to hide your emotions in the name of fulfilling your duties and helping those who needed your guidance. Even if not towards death, you continue to fling yourself towards destruction in the name of others’ well-beings. An admirable quality, but one that I will have to keep an eye on. I did not wait this long for my Champion to return to me only for him to destroy himself.”

Vax feels a pang of guilt at that, but almost as soon as he does, the finger tracing his palm shifts into fingers skittering ticklishly against his palm and down his forearm as Her other hand holds his by the wrist. He lets out a few surprised snickers as he instinctively attempts to pull his arm from Her grasp to no avail.

“This is no burden to me, my Vax’ildan, especially not after you have served me so well in life and already in what comes after. Besides --” She says turning back towards him, a soft smile replacing the previously somber expression of Her mask as She strokes the back of Her hand gently down his cheek, “I would like for you to find contentment here. Your service does not rob you of the rest that you have more than earned in life.”

Vax glances away, unable to bear both the weight of Her stare and the weight of Her words simultaneously. When he turns back to face Her, Her mask has vanished revealing Her true face, deep red eyes filled with an indescribable emotion.

“The transition from life to that which comes after is almost never an easy one. We try to make our realms a welcoming and comforting place for the souls that find their way to them, but even still the world that they have always known is so different from the ones found here. Oftentimes they must leave behind the ones that they love, as well as the places and purposes that gave them joy and meaning. It is something that we all must adjust to,” She says and Her eyes, a reminder of the mortal She was so long ago, are filled with a sad type of understanding.

“But --” She begins as Her face softens into a gentle smile, “you needn’t face it alone. Almost any soul that has passed through the gate is familiar with your plight, especially those that were warriors and heroes like yourself in their time on the Prime Material Plane and of which there are many scattered across the realms of the gods. Should you not wish to discuss your troubles with me, there are many of my servants who preside within my realm. A few fought in my name just as you did; you may find them to be far more personable and understanding than one would assume.”

She smiles wider then, the sadness leaving Her face. She reaches out and brushes a long lock of his hair that had come undone in his squirming behind his ear. Her nails trail delicately along its back making him smile and twitch away, skin still buzzing slightly from the previous onslaught.

“And, of course, there is still your mother. I brought you to this plane with a purpose, as it is the one where she resides,” She says.

Vax’s eyes widen; he had almost forgotten about his mother. She of course had greeted him when the Raven Queen came to claim his soul, but they only had a few moments together before his services were required. The realization that there was at least one familiar face, and perhaps a few unfamiliar faces that still could understand him, on this side of the Divine Gate eased something in his chest that had wound itself too tight for comfort around his heart. Relief washed in to fill the space it had once occupied.

His Matron moves to stand and he follows Her in doing so. She lifts one arm and points towards the tree-line, slightly to the right, where he could see a few small buildings that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Your mother resides in that settlement. You should be able to find her there whenever you wish to see her,” She says.

“Thank you,” Vax says quietly but earnestly as he turns to look at his Matron. She simply smiles in reply.

Vax gives another glance to the tree-line but he senses that his Matron has more to say. When he turns to look at Her, Her mask once again shields Her true face.

“I would also like to remind you, my Champion, that you will not be separated from your friends forever. All pass through my domain eventually,” She says as She begins to turn from him.

“Well that's not ominous,” Vax says, forgetting himself momentarily. He remembers who he's talking to and his eyes widen as he stammers out pieces of an apology. But before he can collect himself to properly express these, She laughs, a calm and restrained noise but not lacking in amusement. He relaxes as Her mask glances over Her shoulder at him displaying a smile. She says no more though, and steps silently through the portal back to Her halls, leaving him alone on the grassy hillside.

He stares after Her for a while, then turns his attention back to the tree-line. He thinks paying his mother a visit would do him some good. He smiles, this time of his own accord, and begins making his way towards her home.

Vax does pay her a visit, and many more afterwards, and it does in fact do him a world of good. He also ends up making acquaintances with Her previous champions and followers, and he is both surprised and not at all that some of them are as friendly and lively as they are. Eventually, he settles into his duties and they feel less like a burden and more like what he did in life, helping those who can’t help themselves, and he comes to take an odd sense of comfort and pride in that.

However, he still sometimes is prone to episodes of melancholy, also just as he was in life, when he feels the absence of his friends and sister more keenly. He will occasionally fail to seek out the comfort of his mother or his new companions, slipping into the old habit of bearing his burdens alone to spare the ones he cares about. But, if perhaps in these moments, there is a sudden breeze from nowhere that causes his cloak’s feathers to flick at his ears with more intent than is strictly natural and that pulls him from his somber train of thought, reminding him that he is not alone, not if he doesn’t want to be.

Well, he isn’t going to complain.


End file.
